Thursday, September 3, 2015

"It is an awful thing to be betrayed by your body." -David Leviathan, "Every Day"

I was greeted by a rush of warm air as I pushed the lobby's revolving door with great force, noticing, with disgust, the impromptu smushed-bug-graveyard that claimed the curved glass. The job application I was holding nearly blew away with the surge of wind that marked the unpredictable weather that Collingwood residents seemed to be experiencing lately. To be fully prepared for these conditions, meant I would need a 'Noobs Guide to Surviving American Weather', as in Poland, the weather was remarkably different. The current temperature, fifty-two degrees, would be considered near summer holidayweather in Warsaw. I smirked, as I walked down the sidewalk, at the scattered residents that were heavily dressed in fleece jackets, and thick scarves, basically as if they had rounded up their "cold weather gear". Ahh..Americans. I am quite thankful for the entertainment they provided me. My musing stopped sharply, as an eccentrically dressed man came out of nowhere, nearly blowing my eardrums out. "Balloons! Get'cha balloons. Uh...misss.....sir? Mamnn-ssssir...uh.." I stood patiently, watching the man twirl his mustache in deep contemplation as he attempted to identify my gender. It was something I was quite used to, but that didn't necessarily rid me of frustration. "Hi! You! Person! Wouldja like a balloon? Free! In celebration of Collingwood's Annual Dog Festival." Craning my neck around him, across the street, dogs of all shapes and sizes bounded about the grassy field, their owners chatting. I turned my attention back to the balloon man. "No..tank you veery much, though." Stepping quickly away, I began to re-follow my route to Hot Legs, where I would be submitting my application. I realized I would have to cross through the dog park to adhere to the rather bizarre route I planned out. Ugh. My allergies would indefinitely get the best of me, what with the large number of dogs inhabiting the park. My best bet was to rush through as quickly as possible, avoiding dog feces, soggy tennis balls, dog drool, and worst of all: overly enthusiastic dog owners.

Keeping my gaze on the crowded park, my thoughts were disrupted by the painful sensation of two foreheads clanking together. I stumbled backwards, my eyebrows knit in pain, as I looked up at my collision partner, an expensively dressed blonde, glaring back at me, her hand resting on her forehead. "Sorry", we both said at the same time, and I was surprised to hear an un-American accent, couldn't quite put my finger on it. She picked up her fancy purse, which was knocked onto the sidewalk during our collision, and continued on, her nose turned up ever so slightly, as if she wasn't sure how snobbily she wanted to react. I brushed off my jeans, and resumed my dash through the festival, zig-zagging this way and that, in an attempt to avoid un-identifiable spots of mush (presumably dog shit, but with animals, who the hell knows). Panting, I turned my head to the left, and seeing the glaring 'Hot Legs' sign, continued on my path.

The bartender studied the application, chewing on her lip. "Uh, the manager will need to check this out. Looks like you have no experience, hm?" I shook my head in response, doing my best to ignore her obvious stare. Enduring the constant stares I received on a regular basis could frustrate me on my bad days, which was definitely today. "Well, either way, I'll have her take a look at your application, and she'll call you in for an interview if you meet our criteria." I stood up on my tippy-toes, to make hold eye contact with the bartender for as long as possible, as I was ridiculously short, approximately five-foot-three. "Do yew know ven dat vill be?", I asked, noticing her confused expression. I tried again. "Em..ven vill I geet a call?" The bartender appeared bored at this point, and unenthusiastically responded with a shrug. "I dunno. Like I said, if ya fit in here, we'll let you know." I nodded, and quickly made my way to the bathroom before I said something I might regret. Pushing open the door to the Men's bathroom, I stood before myself in the dusty mirror, my reddening eyes, an intense blue, staring back at me. My choppy short hair was hidden under a lightweight beanie, and tufts of white-blonde hair poked out unevenly. A baggy mens T-shirt covered my skinny frame, not so flatteringly, I might add, although flattery was not my ambition at this point. It wasn't until this moment that I realized how much I needed this job. How could I complete my transition without the surgeries? And how could I complete the surgeries without the money? I was so tired of feeling different, and the judgmental looks I received several times today reminded me of how self-conscious I was. I'd be damned if this move to Collingwood wasn't the fresh start I planned upon. The bathroom door opened loudly, and the protruding figure gawked at me. "Hey, what the fuck are you doing in here, bitch?" He grabbed hold of my skinny shoulders, and shoved me heavily towards the exit. "This is the GUYS bathroom. And you don't look like no guy to me."

Hello! Sorry it took me so long to reply! Yes, definitely I'd love to interact. Hm..my past interaction with a character involved a brief collision on the sidewalk..I can't think of anything major right now. What about you? Did you have anything in mind?